"Noel."

"Sorry. I'm curious. We can leave if you'd rather, but I think I want to see how deep the rabbit hole goes."

"Do you have," grumbles Yvette, "any self preservation instincts? At all? First the motorcycle, and now this?"

"It's gas efficient," he defends, which is not at all why he has a motorcycle. "And you're stalling."

"Ugh." It's totally going to bug her, not knowing what the hell's going on here. It's probably not going to kill them. Right? Yes? Probably?

"You are hazardous to my health," she declares.

"We can definitely leave right now if you'd like to."

"Yes I know, but ugh I don't know what's going on and it's going to bother me! This is a very stupid way to kill someone, right, this is probably for a prank show."

"Probably."

"Fine. But if I die, I am haunting your grave. Just so you know! I will say I told you so over and over again, it will be so obnoxious."

"Yes, clearly that is the only motivation for wanting to keep you alive. All right, let's not split up, c'mon, into the elevator. Which song do we want?"

"I really don't care which song inevitably kills us."

"Great Balls of Fire it is!"

Yvette's palm, meet her face.

"Noel, I love you, but also I kind of hate you."

They both enter the elevator (one more hesitant than the other) and Noel types in the code associated with Great Balls of Fire.

The doors of the elevator slide closed behind them and there's a sensation of turning as if they're in a train rounding a corner but without the any real feeling of momentum. They feel abruptly dizzy and then the dizziness is joined by a sharp headache. The doors won't open again for a full minute.

Noel has more coordination than his sister, so it's his job to keep her from tipping over and impacting something unpleasant. He catches her, wincing.

"Ow, thank you, what the fuck, ow?"

"I concur on all stated points."

The splitting headache is making it kind of hard to think. She attempts to put words together anyway.

"The hell would even do this, abrupt pressure change?"

"Possibly."

Noel isn't feeling terribly talkative. He's eyeing the elevator like some people eye interrogation victims. Looking mercilessly for a sign of weakness that will immediately be capitalized on.

Just as suddenly as they started the headache and dizziness disappear, a couple seconds later the doors of the elevator open on an elegant lounge with the sort of buffet setup you see in fancy restaurants. There are couches and a few small six sided worktables made out of exquisitely carved wood with a strong hexagonal theme. If they open the silver buffet cases they'll find salads, pasta, a creamy chicken dish and an array of nicely decorated cupcakes with the same hexagonal theming. The evening sun is streaming through a nearby window out from behind the clouds.

If they're paying close attention they'll feel slightly lighter on their feet than usual.

"What the fuck."

"I reaffirm my concurrence on that point."

Carefully, he steps out of the elevator.

His sister follows, making a beeline for a couch to sit on, rubbing her temples.

Noel begins taking a look around. They seem to be the first ones here.